Moonlight
by Lasaravis
Summary: Pony watches Johnny sleep. PonyJohnny, slash, very gentle on the whole.


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Author's Notes: Hey yall! Sadako here. I don't think any of your reading this knows me yet, as I have never written anything in this category before. Anyway, my little sister had to read 'The Outsiders' for some book study thing at school, and I happened to pick up the book myself. After falling completely in love with it, my overactive imagination kicked in, and this just happens to be the result. Sighs Oh well. I haven't Actually _read_ a whole lot of stuff in the realm either, as I'm really not a big fan of OC's (even really well-written ones). Anywho, I am constantly amazed at the lack of slash in this category, which is odd because the story is full of droolsome young men to do _very_ bad things with… wicked grin Oh well, that's what people like me are for…

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Disclaimer: You know, I can't remember one single part in the book where Johnny and Pony start snogging each other's faces off… maybe that's because S. E. Hinton owns the boys, and not me. looks jealous

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Feedback: Don't you know it! 

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Rating: PG-13

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Pairing: Pony/Johnny

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Warnings: Slash, though without my usual explicit stuff. Maybe slightly limey. I dunno.

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Dedication: To Nakari, because I love her. 3

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MOONLIGHT

THE MOONLIGHT FILTERES through the dirty, broken glass; the recycled sunlight pouring into the room; yet its serene and comforting aura doing nothing to help me sleep. Milky light dances through the quiet night, as a warm breeze plays across my cheek, but sleep still alludes me.

The breaths of the boy beside me come heavy, soft and even, as the moonlight dances across his handsome face, defining every curve, every shadow and every scar. Long, thick black lashes lay against golden skin; the hue turned almost porcelain by the soft, cool light of the moon. His full, slightly rosy lips are open minutely, letting out gentle puffs of soft air onto my cheek, gently stirring my hair.

Oh! How I long to taste that mouth, to take the pouty lower lip between my teeth. To slide my tongue into his mouth, and to have him do the same in return. Have him place his thigh between my legs and let me press my self up against him. To hear him make soft, pleading noises deep in his throat.

I can't help it; I reach out and touch his cheek with the back of my fingers. His skin is exactly how I imagined it would be; smooth and soft, unmarked apart form the scar, and feeling like velvet being rubbed the right way.

He is almost the vision of beauty. Almost. He would be if I could see those depthless dark eyes, so full of compassion and warmth. It's almost a crime to shut them they are so beautiful, and I long to wake him up just so I can stare into them.

He stirs slightly in his sleep, fine wrinkles developing on his brow, underneath the cool silk of his hair, but I cannot draw my hand away. I can't stop touching him, and I ache to run my fingers through that ebony hair, to feel the soft texture against the pads of the tips, letting it slip through slender digits, and watching it cascade back into place.

He shifts again slightly, and his eyelashes flutter, making my breath catch in my throat. Slowly, cautiously and gingerly, I draw my hand away, hardly daring to breathe, lest I wake him.

His eyelids flutter again, and he emits a soft sigh, before yawning. Depthless dark eyes open so very slightly, and I hear a soft, "…Pony?"

"Yeah, s'me" My reply is even less than a whisper, almost silent when combined with my normally quiet voice. Yet, I am sure he has heard it; sounds ring loudly in the empty church.

"Oh…" He's not quite awake yet, his eyes smoky and his voice thick with a drowsy haze. "'Time s'it?"

"Late. Go back to sleep."

Instead of following my advice, he breathes a deep sigh, shifting his body so his elbow is on the worn wood floor, hand supporting his cheek. He sticks that bow-shaped lower lip out farther, as his other hand rubs at his eyes.

I can't take my eyes off that beautifully curved mouth of his, and I find myself taking my own lower lip between my teeth, suckling softly, as if to mirror what I want to do to him. I hungrily watch his face, evaluating the strangely high cheekbones, and the square and slightly cleft chin.

His hand drops from his eyes, and I evaluate the depthless, almond-shaped pools of black. His dark eyelashes are charcoal smudges on his skin, and are far longer than any other girl's I have seen.

"What?"

I realize I have been staring. "Nothin'. Just thinkin'."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. About… you know… this." I wave a hand, indicating the church around us.

A small, amused smile tugs at his lips, and it makes my stomach twist not unpleasantly, and his dark eyes dance.

"Sure."

Before I know what's happening, he leans forward and gently places a chaste kiss on my mouth. I gasp softly, and close my eyes. His lips remind me of pillows, soft, moist, tangy pillows, and the only thing I can think of is that I have never liked the taste of baloney so much in my entire life.

He pulls back far too soon, and my eyes flicker open only to meet with his own. He is as amused as I am surprised, and the twitch of his lips show it.

"Sleep, Pony." A soft peck on my mouth. "We'll see how this goes, hey?"

I can only nod mutely.

He smiles again, and rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes.

I lay in al half drowse. _We'll see how this goes_… his words still ring in my head, and are a comforting warmth. Who knows what could happen after we go back?

On that thought, I slept.

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END


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